


Ratchet Approves

by Delirious21



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Double Penetration, M/M, Sex Toys, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, smexy bois, two sided dildo, valve play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 17:45:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19706347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delirious21/pseuds/Delirious21
Summary: Ratchet thought all he came for was a datapad, but he ended up coming for much, much more.





	Ratchet Approves

Ratchet stared into the box, struggling to remember why he originally entered Drift’s suite. It had something to do with a borrowed datapad, he thought, but it didn’t seem to matter anymore. Drift, having only recently returned from a supply run turned escape mission, was rinsing off in the private shower attached to his room. When Ratchet knocked earlier, Drift sent the code to unlock the door and yelled where he stashed his datapads. 

Now, Ratchet wasn’t so sure Drift said under the berth. The box of ‘toys’ in his lap was definitely not a medical doctrine. He couldn’t lie, even to himself; the collection was extensive and well organized. Clean and waiting for use. Reaching into the box for the first time, Ratchet brushed his thumb over the head of a rather large false spike. He considered its hefty girth, barely able to wrap one servo around the base, and lost himself in a fantasy. His engine revved at the images in his processor, so gorgeous and sultry. Primus he wanted to use it all. The imitation valve, the chains, the vibrators and the beads. He wanted to stuff Drift full of his own toys and watch him shiver and cry through overload after overload. 

The water shut off and the blow dryer cycled on. Ratchet realized what was happening too late to properly react. Properly as in, pretend like he didn’t want to take Drift any and every way possible, but scold him for holding out as well. So he jolted clumsily when Drift opened the bathroom door, and the box went tumbling to the floor. 

Ratchet froze in place as Drift chuckled and got on his knees to pick up the toys. His armor, so fresh and polished and stunning— it was getting to Ratchet. All of it was. And Drift, there on his knees, picking up the grey spike ring, running his slender digits around the curve, licking his lips. 

Ratchet stood, hoping the motion would put unwanted pressure on his spike and force it down. But Drift looked up with those gorgeous optics and, from his new angle, Ratchet couldn’t help but melt. It didn’t help that Drift was making eye contact as he slipped the bullet-shaped vibrator inside of his biolit valve. All Ratchet could manage was sitting on the edge of the berth. He couldn’t understand himself; they’d interfaced before, multiple times in which he was the dominant mech, but suddenly his old, probably rusted, valve was fluttering, clenching down on nothing. 

Drift hummed and tossed the box of toys next to Ratchet before sliding over himself. Still kneeling, he situated himself at Ratchet’s pedes. 

“How’s your day been?” he asked, helm tilted ever so slightly. 

Ratchet scoffed. “It’s been fine. I just wanted my data pad back.” Although Drift seemed to know that wasn’t entirely true. 

“Well,” the speedster whispered. “You’re going to get something better.” 

As Drift spread Ratchet’s legs, licking inseams and sensitive wires, Ratchet wondered aloud, “Why haven’t we used any of your, ah, toys before?” 

Drift didn’t even pause his venturing closer and closer to Ratchet’s hidden valve. “Because you’re more than enough for me. I only use these ‘cause they make up for when you’re gone.”

Ratchet’s engine revved, his fans finally kicking in. His servos found their way to the back of Drift’s helm, digits carefully rubbing the ridges and urging him closer. Drift’s servos were warm, splayed over Ratchet’s thighs, as his lips peppered the searing plating of his partner. Ratchet let his helm fall back when Drift started suckling on the edges of his modesty plating. 

Right before his panels snapped open, Ratchet gasped a desperate, “Move.”

Of course, Drift grinned and pressed closer to his pressurizing spike, letting it come to life against his lips. Ratchet flushed as his valve wept precursory fluids, and even more so when Drift cocked an optic ridge at the mess. Without a word, Drift pushed up from the ground to straddle Ratchet, forcing him on his back. Their engines revved together as Drift leaned forward and canted his hips so that his valve caught the top of Ratchet’s spike, giving just a flash of friction. 

“Mm, you’re so perfect,” Drift hummed, optics lidded as he rocked back again. 

Ratchet never quite understood why, but Drift, no matter what, rained praises on him at any chance he got, especially during intimate moments. But Ratchet couldn’t look at any part of himself and see perfect. A rusting war medic with nothing left to offer, and j— 

Ratchet gasped when Drift sank down onto his spike. Drift stared, optics intense, into Ratchet’s as he swirled his hips. “Stop,” he said.

Trying to press deeper, just starting to feel the vibrations from the toy already inside Drift, Ratchet groaned. “Stop what, moving?”

Drift stretched to lock Ratchet in a commanding kiss. They sank into the feeling, parting only when Drift bit down on Ratchet’s lip. 

He didn’t mind a little rough play, but that was more aggressive than he’d ever seen Drift in bed. Ratchet sat up, Drift sliding off him, and swiped the energon away with the back of his servo. “What in the Pits has gotten into you, Drift?” he snapped. 

Drift had his arms crossed, standing wide, set in his place. A pre-battle stance. 

“Why do you think I do this, Ratchet?” he asked, voice firm and relentless, stifling the sexual tension in the room. 

Ratchet sighed but offered no other answer. He really had no idea why any bot would find attraction in him, especially now in his later years. When he was young, he could be quite the catch, but he was rusting and taking up space now. 

Drift frowned and stepped closer, slender digits reaching for Ratchet’s worn and rough servo. Entwining their digits, Drift said, “It’s because I love you. And, I know that’s early, maybe too fast, but I can barely control myself as is. You care so much, and you never gave up on me, even when I was a hot mess. A mech as noble and loyal as you deserves to hear how perfect and beautiful he is. You’re passionate and fierce, and I love everything about you, even your flaws. So when I tell you you’re perfect, don’t leave me. Just let me love you.” He stood there, exposed and vulnerable in every way, and all Ratchet could do was smile. 

His free servo locked around the base of Drift’s back and he pulled him into a hug, as soft and warm as he could manage. They sank into each other, and he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Pulling back, Drift grinned and brought their entwined servos to his mouth, suckling on Ratchet’s. Wires hypersensitive, Ratchet groaned and reached between them to palm Drift’s spike. Drift moaned around his digits and the vibrations made him twitch with excitement. All too quickly, Ratchet was tipping over the edge, back arching and panting. Before he could overload, though, Drift snatched the spike ring out of the box next to them and slipped it over Ratchet.

Ratchet gasped and twisted. “Damnit, Drift!”

Drift chuckled and backed off enough to circle Ratchet, scramble onto the berth, and grab the double sided spike. He swung it in the air, laughing. “Wanna give this a whirl? I saw your valve… Unless you want to start out slow?”

Ratchet turned, getting onto his hands and knees atop the berth. Over his shoulder, he shot Drift a cocky grin. “Bring it, kid.”

“With pleasure.”

Ratchet moaned as the massive dildo pressed past his soaked folds. Drift slowly edged it in as Ratchet crumbled under him. He hadn’t taken something so big in a long time, a digit here and there, but that was it. And this, this was already making him crave more. He groaned and tried to push back against the spike, but Drift pulled it back, leaving Ratchet gaping.

“Look at you,” Drift purred. “Spread and moaning for more already. You deserve so much more.”

Ratchet cursed under his breath as the false spike was removed completely and Drift’s digits filled his valve instead. At least four, but it was good, and nowhere near his limit, so he rocked back and moaned and hissed. Drift ran his free servo down Ratchet’s back, murmuring sweet nothings as he spread his digits and stretched him as much as possible. 

Ratchet keened, glancing over his shoulder to find a beaming Drift. A beaming Drift who pulled out his digits and carefully (out of habit) pressed in with his own spike. Ratchet gasped anyway, loving the feeling of his lover sinking into him, claiming every part of him, bringing him closer to the edge. 

“Mmm, Drift,” he moaned as the younger mech thrust. Drift’s pace was more peaceful than he expected, and he didn’t have the angle to reach Ratchet’s ceiling node, and it left his valve spasming and his spike throbbing for release. “Ah— more,” he hissed. 

Drift stopped thrusting, his servos exploring the perfect curve of Ratchet’s aft, squeezing when it befit him. Ratchet was just about to start grumbling when the head of the false spike returned, pressed against his valve beneath Drift. Drift who was gasping and cursing, and when he looked back, Ratchet watched him sink onto the other end of the dildo. His engines revved loud enough to drown out his fans, and he rolled over onto his back, Drift’s spike slipping free. 

Drift just smiled, already lost in his haze of ecstacy, a gentle servo smoothing the inside of Ratchet’s transfluid-splattered thigh. 

“I want to see your face when you overload,” Ratchet whispered, pleased when his response was a spike in his valve. He propped himself up so he could watch as Drift eased the false spike in next to himself. Ratchet groaned with the stretch, and his spike twitched. When it finally slid home, he threw his helm back and started panting. 

Drift, servos on either side of Ratchet’s hips, gripped him so hard he left dents as he started to thrust, the extra friction lighting them both on fire. Ratchet was already shaking, stuffed full and canting his hips as much as possible, as Drift set a brutal pace, ensuring they were both aching and growling each others names. Ratchet pushed down on the false spike, forcing it against the back of his valve, and jolting Drift on the other end, a merciless cycle. 

Drift thrust with all he had, quickly becoming sporadic and hunching over Ratchet. Ratchet caught Drift’s lips and ravaged his mouth. Their overloads built alarmingly fast, with the help of the spike inside them both for sure, and Ratchet swore Drift was striking closer and closer to his ceiling node, so he lifted his hips for a better angle. 

Ratchet practically screamed when Drift hit his node, the false spike striking every other possible cluster, and the spike ring around his spike just not enough to hold him back. He clenched down as his spike released all it could. Drift, trapped in Ratchet’s tight, wet heat, overloaded moments after, pumping Ratchet so full with transfluid that it seeped out around him and the false spike. Drift road out their overloads, thrusting feebly as his own valve clenched around the false spike. When he finished, he pulled out and flopped down next to Ratchet, ignoring their mixing messes. 

He threw an arm over Ratchet and kissed his cheek. Ratchet smiled, watching his boundlessly considerate partner fall asleep. When Drift’s breathing evened out, he kissed his forehelm and whispered, “I love you.”


End file.
